


Two Truths and a Lie

by mistyautumn



Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyautumn/pseuds/mistyautumn
Summary: Three moments of happiness between Alak, Christie, and their son; felt in their hearts and dreamed in their heads.
Relationships: Christie McCawley/Alak Tarr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Two Truths and a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This spun from a prompt asking for Alak and Christie with baby Luke-- maybe while they were imprisoned, or maybe in some alternate world where they were never taken by Pilar. It ended up being both: three ficlets that felt connected. If you like this, please check out my other [_Defiance_ works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyautumn/works?fandom_id=840293). It's a fandom that I never planned to write for, but I've found at least where Alak is concerned, I quite enjoy it. I think this is a mix of fluff and bittersweet, but hopefully it makes you smile.

It’s a nice night, cool and crisp as fall descends over the forest, but what makes it even nicer is laying in bed with her husband, their son wriggling around on the blankets between them. Quentin’s in his room, her mother is off getting supplies, and though she and Alak are each bound by an ankle to the bed, it feels almost... normal. They could be in their bed in Defiance, if not for the fact that they can’t leave.

Luke yawns and Alak draws him in, cuddling him gently. Alak can be temperamental, he can be sarcastic-- her dad would say ‘he can be a real shit’; but he’s also passionate, and warm; he’s loving, gentle... Seeing him with their son makes Christie fall in love again. She scooches closer and snuggles in, glad that Alak isn’t handcuffed to the headboard; tonight his arms are both free to hold them. Quentin’s being lenient while their mother is away; Christie wonders if he ever feels guilty for everything that’s happened.

Alak kisses Luke’s head softly, then his eyes meet hers and he smiles before leaning in to kiss her forehead too, all tenderness.

“My baby and her baby.” He murmurs. It echoes another life; Christie can almost smell the flowers.

“ _Our_ baby.” She corrects warmly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Our sleepy baby.” Settling again, she starts to sing a tune Alak taught her, singing to her belly playfully before Luke was born. It’s a Castithan lullaby; she can’t remember all the words. Alak watches her and for a moment his expression is strange; wistful and sad and happy all at once. The moment passes and he smiles his softest smile and starts to fill in words where she forgets them, singing softly with her until their son is asleep.

His fingers brush slowly, rhythmically through her hair. “ _I love you._ ” He whispers it, like a precious secret between them; like the first time he said it as he kissed her in the Arch... 

_Oh..._

Wistful and sad and happy all at once. 

“ _I love you, too._ ” Christie whispers. 

The lives they knew have been stripped away, but that precious truth remains.

\---

Luke is crying. Quentin is trying to fix a leaky spot in the roof and Alak really can’t blame the baby because the sudden, aggressive sound of hammering is kind of making _him_ want to start screaming too. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s chained to a table. Or that he hasn’t bathed in going on three days and feels disgusting. It’s gotta be one of those things. Or all of them. It’s probably all of them.

Christie’s eyebrows draw in and she sighs. She’s pacing on her longer chain, trying to bounce Luke gently into calmness. The baby isn’t soothed. Alak catches her gently by the waist as she passes him; she looks down into his face and smiles wanly before lowering Luke carefully into his waiting arms with a soft “Thanks.”

“Daddy’s turn.” He shifts Luke slightly, then starts to murmur to him in Casti- something he can seldom do; Pilar doesn’t like it. Pilar can eat _shtako_.

Christie drags her chair next to the one he sits in. Alak kisses her temple when she settles, and she smiles wanly at him before casting a glare towards the ceiling. The hammering stops. Alak looks upward too, then they look at each other... the quiet continues and even Luke's wails switch to more of a burble. “ _Mommy did magic._ ” Alak whispers to the baby, still in Casti. A huff of a laugh escapes Christie.

“Maybe he’s done?” She says tentatively with another glance to the ceiling.

 _Maybe he’s dead._ Alak thinks, then wonders if he should guilty for it. Quentin and Pilar are Christie’s family-- his now, too- but Quentin and Pilar also dragged them both out to the middle of nowhere to live whatever nightmare this is. Quentin might comment on the chains, but he doesn’t unlock them. Maybe that’s even worse.

Christie’s head nuzzles against his shoulder and brings him back to her and their son and a precious moment of just _them_ , no Quentin or Pilar.

“Keep going.” She prompts gently. “ _Our son should know both of our languages._ ”

“Hm...” He wonders for a moment what Pilar might do if Luke’s first word is a Casti one and slowly smirks, speaking dryly. “What words did you wanna learn first when we started going out...? I could try to teach him _yela_ , or _nanggo_ , your mom would love that-”

“Alak!” She hits his arm painlessly, but he can see her eyes are dancing with amusement. He grins and presses another kiss to her head; she starts to laugh, then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard joins Christie’s fit of giggles...

They both look to Luke, peels of laughter coming from him as well.

“ _Oh, Rayetso..._ ” Alak breathes, and Christie squeezes his arm. Luke’s giggled before, a little here and there, but he’s never _laughed_ like this. Christie beams, and Alak smiles, feeling a wave of emotion wash through him. The truth is, _joy_ is rare in this place. But seeing it in Luke? Alak can feel it too.

\---

There’s a record playing... 

Alak holds his son and spins one way, Luke shrieking in delight, then the other; Alak’s laughing too. His parents are off somewhere; they can play the music loud and shout and sing and _live_ without his father grumbling, or his mother giving looks... Rafe might not mind it at the McCawley house, but he also might drag Alak out back and put him in the ground. Alak’s never really sure what he can expect from his father-in-law; it seems to depend on the day. 

He thinks, not for the first time, of running away together. Ok, maybe just _stepping_ away, but still. Tarr Tracks isn’t nothing; he’s starting to get money that’s his... _theirs_. Maybe they wouldn’t be as well off as they’ve been living under the roofs of their parents, but maybe it would be worth it to have a roof of their own, a door to close, a place to get away. 

Christie sits on the bed, smiling as she watches Alak playfully dip their son down before swooping the giggly baby up high. He shifts Luke to one arm, and holds his free hand out to her... she takes it and he draws her up to dance, spinning her... They dance like humans dance until they’re out of breath, then sink to the floor, their backs against the foot of the bed, their fingers twined together. He casts a sidelong glance at Christie and she laughs a little before she leans her head on his shoulder and he rests his cheek against her hair...

 _If I could turn the page  
In time then I'd rearrange  
Just a day or two  
Close my, close my, close my eyes..._

There’s a record playing, but it’s just in his head.

He sits at a battered table, in a broken down house in the woods. Across it, Christie’s fingers have twined with his. 

“What’re you thinking about?” She asks softly, her thumb brushing lightly back and forth across his knuckles.

Alak smiles thinly.

“Sweet Little Lies.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _yela_ \- goddamn  
>  _nanggo_ \- fuck
> 
> They may be teaching their kiddo some salty language. It's ok, they'll just blame Datak, he uses some choice words in front of the baby too.


End file.
